Daddy
by thelittleturtleduck
Summary: People stared as the man swung a pink backpack back and forth while clutching the hand of his small daughter. To her, that man is not the man they see. The Avatar is the same man who tucks her into bed at night and tickles her until she's giggling so hard she's crying. He's her Daddy.


A/n: Just a short little piece that has been floating around in my mind for weeks. I'm really hoping that in Book 2, we get to see some flashbacks maybe of Aang and his children. I have this headcanon that Kya was a total Daddy's girl, mostly because from her personality description, she sounds like she inherited a lot of her personality from her father. Anyway, I hope you like it. I got kind of sad at the end. I miss Aang.

Disclaimer: I don't own "Avatar:The Last Airbender" or "The Legend of Korra".

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Republic City's sidewalks were being trampled by many sets of feet, all in a hurry. Though suddenly the steps would pause as the pedestrians turned. Eyes were following the person walking down the street that early morning, with a grin on his face as he bowed his head to the people who couldn't even form a word in response. The man was a walking legend, and it wasn't every day that you saw him just walking the streets of the grand capital.

But that morning had been different.

The man wasn't alone. There was a little girl walking beside him wearing an assortment of blue robes ranging from the color of the pale sky to the dark midnight depths of the bay. She looked to only be about six, with her adorable braided pigtails, and hesitant smile as people's gazes fell on her's, their eyes going wide. Clear blue orbs drifted down to the sidewalk as she gripped the man's hand tighter within her's.

The same people who stopped and stared, didn't just stare at the man whom walked the streets with a slight skip in his step as if the whole weight of the world wasn't on his shoulders. Their eyes were locked on the article he held in his free hand, swinging it to and fro as if it wasn't a big deal. As if he wasn't.

It was a little, pink backpack.

The Avatar looked down at his tiny daughter, her dark pigtails swinging as she kept pace with him. Her usual tall posture had been downgraded to a dejected slump as her thin lips remained in a taunt line. She wanted to cry, he could feel it in the way she squeezed his hand as they arrived in front of Republic City's Academy. Her tanned features were oddly ashen that morning, whether it was from the pale sunlight bathing the city in its glow, or from the nerves, Aang couldn't tell.

"Kya?" The man questioned gently as they halted just before the concrete steps. The building loomed over them, casting shadows as the sun continued its journey into the sky. The little girl didn't respond, and instead ducked her head down lower as she kept her cerulean gaze on her slippers.

Aang crouched down, bending a hand over his knee with the backpack slung over it as well, almost touching the ground. He still held tightly to the girl's hand as she began to shake nervously. Letting the bag fall to the ground softly, he reached a hand up to gently coax his daughter's chin so that her gaze would meet his.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

The Avatar could visibly see tears well up within her eyes, an embarassed blush dusting her cheeks as she released his hand in order to whipe them from her soft skin as they fell. She cast nervous glances every which way for a moment, as parents who were also dropping their kids off at school, stopped to stare at the man with arrow tattoes currently harboring a backpack between his knees, and holding the chin of a small child.

"Everyone's watching."

Aang looked up to see what she was talking about. He usually didn't walk to City Hall on the streets, preferring to take his glider so that he could avoid the stares of the citizens of the city. But Katara had warned him that the robes Kya wore were brand new, and that if he gave her a ride to school on his glider and they were messed up, his glider wouldn't be in existance much longer. She couldn't be with them that morning because she was taking care of a rambunctious four year old Bumi, and the newborn baby that had just been welcomed into the family barely a month ago. She was saddened that she had to miss this important milestone in their daughter's life, but was also happy that her husband would get the oppurtunity to walk with his child on the street.

The man usually didn't walk around the streets with his children, the stares of the people highly uncomfortable to them who only knew their father for who he was and not the Avatar. They didn't know him as the world did. They had no idea that the same man who read them bedtime stories every night and tickled them until they couldn't breath, was the same man that had ended one of the worst wars in the history of the world. They just assumed that every child's father had a statue dedicated to them in the middle of a body of water somewhere.

He knew that walking Kya to her first day of school, would cause people to talk. It was rare to see the Avatar in the city for he spent so much time on his island, but it was even stranger to see him with one of his children. If only they knew.

Aang's stormy gaze left those of the other parent's. A small smile appeared on his features as he shook his head in slight disbelief. He was exactly like them. A parent simply dropping their nervous child off on their first day of school.

Kya still watched the passing people nervously, her eyes only falling from their's when she noticed her father picking her pink backpack off of the ground and holding it out for her to take. A gentle kiss was placed on the crown of her head as he softly placed his forehead against her's, gazes locked.

"Don't worry about them. It's just you and me right now."

A few years down the road, Aang was welcomed into the journey of parenting a young teenager. Though his daughter's deposition was astonishingly like his, despite her being a waterbender as opposed to an airbender, there were a few things that changed within her as she graced her teenage years.

The Avatar had never paid much thought to people's opinion on him personally. He worried what they thought of him as the Avatar, but if they didn't know him, they really had no right to judge his character.

But when he was a teenager, things were so different.

It was a warm morning as the man walked beside his daughter, the scene nostalgic of one that had repeated itself year after year. The thirteen year old keeping pace beside him wore her usual first day of school robes, her slippers making slight patters on the hard surface they walked on. Instead of pigtails braided loosely, she now wore her hair in a complicated updo with multiple braids intricated within it.

There was no little, pink backpack this year.

People stared, but instead of becoming uncomfortable and upset, Kya instead nervously touched at her face. She hoped that the makeup her mother applied to her mocha colored skin that morning had remained in its proper order. The girl's deep blue eyes cast anxiously from side to side, as people still stopped to watch them walk in silence. Her father remained unfazed and dutifully walked along side her.

She had learned in school the many accomplishments of her father. She now knew why their stares were so stunned and transfixed on the man walking the streets with arrow tattoes proudly painted on his skin. But to Kya, he never changed into the Avatar from being her father.

Bumi walked a few steps behind them, basking in the glory that was attention as he practically sauntered down the sidewalk. He grinned at everyone's expressions, gracing them with a gapped toothed smile as he slung his backpack over his shoulder and rubbed a rough hand through his frizzy hair. Tenzin remained on the island to instead learn the ways of the Air Nomads instead of receiving an education at the Academy, so only two of the Avatar's children were in attendance.

In front of the steps, they stopped. Aang telling both of his children to be careful and to be respectful to their teachers. Bumi responded with a solemn nod, though both Kya and Aang knew the young boy would be in the headmaster's office by the end of the day. He walked up the steps to where the doors were, and let himself in. He radiated confidence.

Kya stood still. The Avatar looked worriedly at her as she carefully shifted her dark bag over her shoulder. He then noticed that her gaze wasn't even on him, it was on a small group of teens who kept stealing glances over at her and covering their mouths and laughing.

The teenager released a long sigh, cerulean eyes noticeably dulling under the gaze of what Aang assumed to be the popular group at the Academy.

"Thanks, Daddy."

Her voice was soft and low, the breeze easily letting the words drift away as if they had never been there at all. As she turned from him to walk up the steps,  
the group began laughing uncontrollably again and muttering things like "Daddy's girl" or "Cry baby". His daughter instead of running over and using her waterbending to show them who was boss, ducked her head and opened the door quickly,  
disappearing within seconds.

That was the last time she had called him Daddy.

Many years down the road, the pair walked the sidewalk again. Kya was no longer in school, and hadn't been in many years. The once tall Avatar that used to tower over the pedestrains that walked the streets, was slightly hunched over. There was no skip in his step.

Instead of being that once distance teenager, Kya grasped firmly to his arm. The colors of winter and autumn melded into one at their joined elbows,  
causing the woman to smile at all the times she had attempted to steal Acolyte clothing just so she could look like her Daddy.

Her father that had once been so strong, so lively, was dying. She and her siblings knew it well. They knew that the man that walked among them was just a hollow shell of the father that used to chase them on his air scooter. Their mother was trying everything she could to heal him of what was creeping upon him, but it was no use. He was a part of a cycle. The cycle was about ready to continue.

The stares that had once been so appreciative, were now filled with a mixture of stun from seeing the Avatar walking the streets, to mild sympathy as they watched the man with the grey beard try with much effort to keep his pace steady and constant.

She had been living in the North Pole for years, already having started a new life for herself. Her mother had sent her a message concerning her father's health and she could have sworn that her own heart had frozen as icy as the tundra she chose to to establish a home in. She had travelled as fast as she could to Air Temple Island, upon arrival helping her mother with the healing of the man they all held so dearly to their hearts. But it wasn't going to work.

He knew that.

She knew that as well.

People were whispering to each other as they passed, their steps leading them to the front of the abandoned Academy. The playground was barren and desolate without the laughter of children drifting through the air. The cold concrete was caked in a thin layer of snow as a slight flurry of flakes continued to fall.

Neither of them had even paid much attention to the snow.

They remained quiet, but as they walked, the Avatar's joint slightly protested and he let out a soft, pained moan. He thought it had been too quiet for the people around them to hear, but according to their wide eyed stares, he had been wrong.

Dejected, the old Avatar let his chin drop in a rare moment of weakness where he felt like he could do nothing, and softly sighed. He couldn't do anything.

"Everyone's watching."

His words were quiet, and it had sounded like he had almost said them to himself instead of directly talking to her. Kya's gaze looked disapprovingly at those looking at her father now with sympathy filled eyes. He wasn't weak. Even with death approaching her father was stronger than all of them. She tore her icy blue eyes from those who now bowed their heads and ignored the two, and instead looked up at the ashamed Avatar.

"Don't worry about them. It's just you and me right now, Daddy."


End file.
